Breakfast with Benefits
by Yarrie - Water Master
Summary: Seriously, Takuya's just trying to make breakfast. It's not his fault that his boyfriend is so distracting. Futurefic/AU Oneshot: Takouji (established).


Takouji fic today, mostly a gift for a friend. It also supports the third leg of my OT3, so I guess I didn't exactly mind XD

This is planned as a oneshot.

* * *

It was early in the morning, dim and dusky. Takuya had just enough light to grope his way around the kitchen and that was enough for him. The light switch was on the other side of the room, and he really didn't feel up to the task of walking there.

In fact, he didn't even know why he was already awake. He still had over an hour before he had to go to work, and it wasn't like he was a big breakfast lover. Not like Kouji, anyways. Definitely not like Kouji. Takuya always wondered how they managed to finish five cartons of eggs in a single week when Kouji only used them to dress up bacon, but whatever.

Then his stomach started growling, reminding him that he hadn't eaten any solid food since lunch yesterday. He opened the refrigerator and stared at the nearly empty shelves. They had run out of milk, but there was still yogurt. Cereal was out, no question, but maybe he could throw on some of that granola stuff he had bought on sale? The lady at work told him it was supposed to be good, but he was a little skeptical. It looked like girly trail-mix.

Wait, didn't his mom use to make pancakes with yogurt? Pancakes...yeah, that was a good idea...

"What's this supposed to be?" Kouji's voice filtered through the apartment hazily.

"Maple syrup," he called back instantly, because he happened to be looking at the big jug of it on the lowest shelf. Then he realized that Kouji wasn't even in the room, which meant that he definitely wasn't talking about maple syrup. Hey, it was early in the morning. He was allowed to be stupid.

Predictably, Kouji sounded exasperated. "Uh, no, definitely not that. Where the hell are you?"

"In the kitchen," he said. "Getting ready to eat."

"Well, there was something - fuck!" Kouji had apparently forgotten about turning the lights on so that he could avoid the mess on the ground, because a brown-tinted beer bottle suddenly scuttled past the doorway, followed by another string of muffled curses.

Takuya promptly stopped browsing the fridge and turned around. "You okay?" he called.

"Fucking bottle - yeah." Kouji walked into the room, limping a little bit. There was a wince on his face and a letter in his hand. "We have to clean up today. I'm going to lose a foot at this rate."

"Uh, yeah. We'll do that." Takuya grimaced. He hated - HATED cleaning up. The only reason his apartment was even livable was because Kouji had a really low tolerance for mess, and Takuya had a really low tolerance for libido-related punishment.

"Good." His boyfriend flopped elegantly - how does one manage to flop _elegantly_? - into a chair and dropped the thick envelope onto the table. "So, back to the original question, what's this?"

Takuya walked over and eyed the paper bundle. "No clue. Is it for me?"

"It was in the mail slot, so I assume that it is. No address, though."

"What the hell? You think it's anthrax or something?"

Kouji gave him a tired glare. "You police officers and your fucking paranoia...no, I don't think it's anthrax."

Takuya glared right back. "Well, how do you know, genius boy?"

"Because it's in a big envelope, and nobody's going to spend extra to ship anthrax in a big envelope when a fingernail's worth is enough to kill you," Kouji said matter-of-factly.

Takuya had to wince. "You know, Kouji, I'm so glad you're not a criminal."

"That makes two of us. Also, are you making breakfast?" It wasn't really a question. It was more of a dressed-up request. Kouji could only manage a half-assed form of politeness, but he was surprisingly insistent about getting the bare bones right.

Takuya grinned knowingly over his shoulder. "If you want."

"I do want."

"Okay. Pancakes?" Takuya suggested hopefully.

Kouji shook his head. "No, something greasy and unhealthy. I have a killer headache." It was said without a single wince, of course. Kouji's poker face was damn near perfect.

"Okay," Takuya said, resigned. No pancakes. Sad day. He wracked his brain for other ideas. "Uh. Potatoes and eggs?"

Kouji considered his suggestion thoughtfully. "As long as it's fried with bacon. Do we have any bacon?"

"Yes," Takuya said, dropping an entire package onto the counter.

"I will be indebted to you forever," Kouji declared, "if you make some of that for me."

Takuya snorted. "How forever is forever?"

"About six months or so," Kouji replied dismissively. "Less if you keep asking."

"Then I won't ever ask," Takuya retorted, grinning. "Six months. Not a bad deal for bacon."

"And bacon-fried potatoes and eggs."

"Well, that too."

Kouji looked self-satisfied. "Knew I kept you around for a reason."

A little injured, he retorted, "What, my company's not good enough?"

"Oh, hell no," Kouji said dryly. He started pulling his shirt off as he walked out. "I'm going to take a shower. Remember the bacon."

"Yeah, yeah," Takuya said, trying to turn on the stove and stare at Kouji's bare back at the same time. "Don't slip on any more bottles."

Kouji snorted. "Don't ask for miracles."

"Hey, I didn't hit a single one this morning," Takuya countered, grinning.

"Well, you _are_ the luckiest bastard in the world, so I'm not surprised," the other male said, swinging his shirt around lazily.

Takuya watched and watched until Kouji finally turned the corner, slipping completely out of sight. Luckiest bastard in the world, huh? He couldn't exactly disagree. He had a job, and a nice apartment, and a boyfriend who was just...gorgeous. Making-straight-boys-question-their-sexuality gorgeous. Girlfriend-what-girlfriend gorgeous. Stay-in-bed-all-day-every-day gorgeous...No, no, he had eggs and bacon to fry, he couldn't get distracted like this.

A hallway away, the shower starting running, and so did his imagination. Takuya groaned and wondered why he couldn't get his mind to stop thinking about sex and Kouji and sex with Kouji. It was weird, really weird, because he couldn't remember ever feeling like that about his ex-girlfriends. Maybe he wasn't actually bisexual? Ugh, that would explain a lot.

"Well, how 'bout that," he muttered to himself. "Straight to gay in six months. Wonder if that's his record."

The kettle whistled almost derisively.

"You're right," Takuya said, fully aware that he sounded ridiculous talking to a kettle. "He's probably managed it in fifteen minutes before."

Of course, that's when Kouji reappeared behind him, as if by magic. "Why are you mumbling to yourself?" he asked, right next to Takuya's ear.

Takuya jumped, almost spilling the panful of oil. "Holy shit - Kouji - don't do that!" he sputtered.

"Don't do what?"

"Sneak around like a ninja!"

Kouji rolled his eyes. "You would've noticed if you hadn't been talking to yourself. What were you saying, anyways? Something about fifteen minutes?"

"Nothing, nothing," Takuya muttered, red in the face. "Weren't you going to take a shower?"

"The water has to heat up, dumbass."

"Oh." He coughed. "Oh. Right."

"Dumbass," Kouji repeated, but in a surprisingly gentle voice. "Hmmm. Smells nice."

"The food?" Takuya felt the slightly bony tip of Kouji's nose brush against his shoulder, so he cautiously leaned back. Kouji didn't wrap his arms around him or anything, but he didn't back away either. Takuya considered that a victory. It wasn't like Kouji was the most touchy-feely guy in the world. Unless you got him in bed, but, well, that was a different sort of touchy-feely.

"Well, that too," he murmured directly into Takuya's ear.

"...You think I smell good?" Takuya asked incredulously, purposefully ignoring the warm puffs of breath hitting his earlobe.

"No," Kouji said, rolling his eyes. "I said you smell _nice_."

"And that's different how?" Takuya muttered, baffled.

"Well, you don't smell good," Kouji replied matter-of-factly. "But somehow it's not...bad, either. I blame the pheromones."

"But if I smell nice, why don't I smell good?" Takuya asked, trying to decide whether Kouji was being insightful or nonsensical.

"Because you smell like you plus beer."

"O...kay."

Kouji relented slightly. "Don't worry about it. Just go take a shower and get the beer smell off. Then you'll smell both nice _and_ good."

"But aren't you using the shower?"

"Takuya," Kouji said patiently, "that doesn't prevent you from joining me."

Oh.

"Idiot," Kouji added wryly.

"But the bacon...?" he motioned, awkwardly, with the pan still in his hand.

"_Takuya_." Kouji gave him a very serene, very condescending look. Then he let go of his boyfriend's shoulders and walked out of the kitchen.

Takuya dropped the pan, shut off the stove, and ran after him. It was still early, after all.

It was not so early by the time they stepped out of the shower, dripping and not necessarily cleaner than they had been before getting in.

After sliding back into his uniform, Takuya glanced at the clock and groaned. "Shit. Uh...no time for breakfast...or at least not bacon."

Once again, Kouji aimed a very pointed, condescending look in his direction.

Takuya felt the heat on his face. "What?"

"I can cook my own bacon, you know. Shut up and heat yourself a donut."

That immediately caught his interest. "We have donuts? Since when?"

"Since yesterday. You drunk-dialed the bakery at eleven and Takato-san was nice enough to give you the stuff he didn't sell."

"That would be, no joke, the first good thing I've ever done for myself when drunk," Takuya said in wonder as he tugged the fridge door open.

"Not in there," Kouji interrupted, looking amused. "The freezer."

"Why the hell would I put donuts in the freezer?"

"How should I know? I was drunk too."

Takuya laughed. The donut box was tightly sealed in plastic wrap, stuffed under some frozen corn. There was no doubt in his mind that _Kouji_ had put the box there, not him. Takuya never remembered to wrap things up, drunk or sober. "Yeah," he said finally, grinning. "Yeah, you were."

"You ordered donuts because you saw that horrible American television series about cops and they were all eating donuts." Kouji informed him. "You also deleted the clip after you finished watching it because you decided that you were jealous of their donuts, even though they had _pink frosting_." His nose wrinkled.

Takuya laughed even harder and shoved the whole box into the microwave. There were only three left anyways. He could eat the rest at work. "Man, drunk me is awesome. Wish I could remember."

"You would have if you hadn't taken that last shot." Kouji tilted his head. "Or...no, never mind. The last _seven_ shots."

"Holy shit, did we clean out the alcohol?"

"No," Kouji said dryly. "Not for lack of trying, though."

"And you - did _you_ get drunk? I mean, really drunk, not just kind of tipsy?"

"No," Kouji replied blandly, "I wanted to remember all the stupid shit you were doing."

"Man, I feel loved."

"Of course you do," Kouji said, heavy-lidded and smirking. He licked a spot of moisture from his lips slowly, like a cat lapping up a dollop of cream. "Don't die today."

"Not planning on it," he replied, swallowing hard, because Kouji had that glint in his eyes and you couldn't really move when he was looking at you like that. "Love you too." The microwave beeped. He winced to see that the donuts were literally steaming. A minute was probably too long. Oh well. Donuts were donuts.

"If we were in a movie, those three words would've doomed you to the most painful death of all the characters," Kouji said, with the faintest of smiles.

"Wait, why? Wouldn't that be kind of a downer?"

"Tragedies sell."

"Yeah, but so do plot twists. What if I was only pretending to be dead?"

"Then I'd punch you in the balls."

"Thank god we're not in a movie," Takuya said with finality.

"Unless for some reason they decide to make a movie adaptation of your life."

"Or yours," Takuya protested.

Kouji snorted. "I'm never going to be famous. You might."

"I'm way more likely to die on duty than become famous..." he muttered, rubbing his neck. It was true, anyways.

There was a thin frown on Kouji's face. "...I guess so."

Takuya waited and waited for the inevitable punchline, but the only thing that came out of Kouji's mouth was a long sigh. He blinked, wondering what was going on. Kouji_ never_ let him win these conversation-debate-things. It just didn't happen. "Hey, what's - "

"Stop talking," Kouji promptly cut in, with a sharp frown. "You're going to be late."

Alarmed, he glanced at the clock. Eight fifty. "...ah, fuck," he said, kissing the edge of Kouji's frown and dashing out the door.

And he _was_ late, of course, but his boss wasn't there until fifteen minutes after him, so it didn't count.

All in all, it had been a good way to start the day.

The best part, though, was coming back and finding the letter floating in a tub of something that smelled like disinfectant. A sticky note on the side proclaimed: "Bleach kills anthrax. Just in case."

* * *

END. Or END?


End file.
